


Collar 项圈

by ivnwrites



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: 1x3 In a Lonely Place, Asphyxiation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Translated from Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivnwrites/pseuds/ivnwrites
Summary: Bancroft gives Kovacs a gift.
Relationships: Laurens Bancroft/Takeshi Kovacs
Kudos: 10





	Collar 项圈

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Collar 项圈](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937002) by [Cuervo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuervo/pseuds/Cuervo). 



> This is an english translation of Cuervo's fic done with permission.  
> I absolutely loved the messed up power dynamics in it and just had to give translating it a try so other english speaker could read.

Before dinner, Mr. Bancroft personally gave him a gift.

Kovacs was in the shower when a knock came at the door, the water running over his hair to drip onto skin that had turned pink from the steam. He ignored Bancroft walking into the bathroom in favor of continuing to brush soap over limbs without a trace of fat, watching their lines blur beneath the stream of water. Bancroft’s smile was visible out of the corner of his eye, but Kovacs kept his own expression cold. His eyes narrowed to see through the curtain of water drops well enough to glower at the man in front of him.

“I hope you can wear it for me,” Bancroft placed a delicate black box in front of the sink. “during dinner.”

“I won’t wear anything for you.” He whispered, and the sound of water surrounded them.

“You will, Kovacs. By now I thought you’d given up trying to maintain this resistance” A smile spread over the meth’s face that almost said more than his words did. “You know I have countless ways to get you into my bed. Why don’t you save us both the trouble and obey. You don’t want it to be like the last time.”

Kovacs’ breath caught in his chest and his movements stuttered, blood rising to his cheeks as the memories poured in behind his eyes. His limbs forced to stretch to their limit, muscles shaking out of his control, and the small bundle of nerves that had driven him crazy.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Bancroft disappeared through the door.

He turned off the shower and walked barefoot across the cold tile floor. The anti fog mirror clearly reflected every inch of his new skin, the old scars, and the red marks that had not faded from around his neck. Kovacs bowed his head and turned away from the marks branded into his skin by Bancroft’s teeth.

The black box was carefully wrapped with a delicate ribbon. Kovacs tore through the knot and the box let out a soft beep before opening to reveal a black collar.

It was a simple black band the width of two fingers with no decoration besides a line of ancient words printed along the edge. Kovacs grabbed the minimalistic neckband and glared at it before buckling it around his neck.

The feeling of compromise with Bancroft is humiliating, but he still doesn’t know what the purpose of the collar is. If the Meth thinks that putting a collar on an Envoy will make him bend to the older man’s will, he’s severely underestimated Kovacs. He touched his fingers to the collar, disliking the way it pinched around his neck to create the feeling of partial suffocation. Maybe this is Bancroft’s most recent obsession, but eventually he’ll find another peerless treasure more attractive than the last Envoy, and the prize possession will be rotated out.

Kovacs put on his shirt and walked out of the still warm bathroom into the colder bedroom beyond. Bancroft’s house had become more lively since he started his shower, and he could hear the dinner guests chatting downstairs as he walked out of the room.

Bancroft hadn’t prepared a grand feast, but it was still lavish enough to meet the requisite flamboyance of high society. The grand hall dedicated to the banquet was brightly lit, the hosts surrounded by fawning guests. Their expensive clothes and constant double talk made Kovacs feel sick.

He swallowed, the collar making it more difficult than usual.

“Kovacs.” Bancroft called out suddenly, making the people around him turn to look at the Envoy. He beckoned Kovac’s forward, uncomfortable with the way all eyes focused on his neck.

“You wore the collar, and your obedience is praiseworthy.” Bancroft’s eyes were empty of emotion. “But I didn’t ask you to wear a shirt,” his eyes moved down, “or pants.”

Kovacs fought against the urge to break Bancroft’s nose, anger and humiliation making his breaths come heavier.

But he can’t resist, can’t vent his anger. Bancroft is not Dimi or some other slow bastard, he knows how to get whatever he wants and Kovacs understands that. The Meth knew how to pinpoint his weaknesses to strike at his soft underbelly. Kovacs would never be able to attack him head on.

Kovacs unbuttoned his shirt.

The guests were waiting for the show, watching a soldier who had been feared across the planets be stripped naked except for a black collar. He kicked away his clothes as they fell until his body was visible to the whole hall.

The desire visible in their eyes only made him more restless.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last Envoy in the galaxy.” Bancroft smiled again, as if he were showing off a purebred dog. “For 250 years he was stored in the prison’s iron walls.”

The guests applauded. Bancroft beckoned Kovacs closer, and a warm current suddenly passed through the collar and into his spine. He could barely react in time and fell to his knees beside Bancroft’s leg before standing again.

The collar had become tighter.

The Meth’s rested a hand on his neck before trailing it down to his waist and delivering a quick slap to his rear. It stung like a burn, and the sharp sound reverberated through the room.

Anger slammed into Kovacs’ chest. He clenched his fist, but felt another force pressing on his throat. The collar narrowing made him reach up involuntarily to touch the buckle at the back, but the ends were locked together securely. He won’t get the thing off unless he breaks his neck.

His stack was squeezed and he fell to his knees dizzy. Heat spread through his body and he knew it couldn’t be caused by the shortness of breath.

“Get yourself ready for me, Kovacs.” Bancroft is still smiling, his eyes shining. The collar must have had a pupil controller, so unless he poled the Meth’s eyes out, this wouldn’t stop.

“No…” Envoys didn’t give in that easily. Sweat dripped from his forehead to the floor. He opened his mouth in a bid to find more oxygen. Kovacs scratched at the collar’s clasp thoughtlessly. The originally soft elastic now clung to his neck like an octopus’ tentacles.

At the same time, he felt hot, and his eyes had glazed over. This wasn’t caused by the lack of oxygen to his brain. During the night he’d spent with Bancroft’s wife, he’d felt the same way under the effect of the aphrodisiac.

“Your body is my possession, Kovacs, you have no right to break it.” The Meth leant forward and raised Kovacs’ head to mutter into his ear. “I don’t want you to be injured because you aren’t ready.” His breath slid over Kovacs’ skin. “Think about last time.”

More adrenaline and artificial hormones poured into his memory. He remembered Bancroft’s penis pushing deep into his mouth, the smell of semen making him want to retch, and the hands tightly clamped around his neck. Right next to the bite marks.

Kovacs’ hands reluctantly moved from the collar down his body. He pressed one hand over his involuntary erection and touched the fingertips of the other to his entrance. Any of the people watching could tell that his movements were clumsy and would only cause him more pain. His knuckles fought with the ring of muscles in an inefficient process that only made him clench tighter. The constant pulses from the collar didn’t help, sending waves of pleasure down his body and making his heart beat wildly in his chest. He ducked his head so none of the guests could see the look of shame on his face, though the breathing he could hear from the gathered guests served as a constant reminder of his public display.

Maybe some people were born never to please themselves.

He fell to the floor writhing like a fish out of water, unable to do anything but what was commanded of him. He’d been reduced to a pet for the Meth’s enjoyment. Kovacs closed his eyes.

Bancroft’s shiny leather shoes crushed his lips, and his spit fell onto the polished surface. He gasped and tried to suppress the saliva in his throat, seeing out of the corner of his eyes that some of the guests had put their hands between their legs.

A hand grabbed his neck and pushed him upright against the wall behind him. Being forced to kneel up pulled his fingers away from the oversensitized skin at his entrance. The Meth squeezed his face with one hand and pushed his swollen penis into Kovacs’ mouth. The impact jarred him and made his breath leave him in a rush. He grabbed at Bancroft’s thighs to push him away, but the drugs left his limbs soft and his eyesight darkened. His head was pressed back against the wall as Bancroft’s thrusts became more powerful, turning his lips a bright red color that would bruise in the morning. His limbs struggled weakly, but he could only sit there and endure the pain.

Kovacs felt tears running down his face, and pushed into his mouth by the impacts of Bancroft’s hips. The Meth pulled away just as he was about to come, and the thick liquid hit him in the face.

“Go to the bedroom.” The Meth smiled and patted his cheek.


End file.
